Next X Vol 1
by Will Goods
Summary: In this stunning X-Men series, villains aren't what they appear along with a few heroes, characters such as the flat Cyclops become three-dimensional, and a story like you've never seen! If you're not reading Next X, you should be!


_**Chapter One**…Westchester, New York_

The Xavier Institute for Gifted Individuals was a brick monolith amongst the gentle trees and thick foliage. It was a large estate with a gate wrapping around it for security and a yard that rivaled the White House's. It was a remarkable work of architecture, the model dating back to colonial America, but refurbished accordingly to make it more modern. The halls and rooms were brimming with all sorts of children, mutants, and youngsters born with uncanny abilities, for an education of their powers. Charles Xavier, who owned the land and spectacular structure, taught them with the help of six other individuals.

Currently, everything had settled down. It was the evening time, where students would report to their dormitories and do the homework assigned, unless, of course, if you were finished. In that case, you were free to do whatever you wanted.

For instance, students would watch television in the common room.

"Good evening, New York," The news reporter said with a solemn face. "I'm Brian Kimmel with your six o' clock news. In news today, sixteen mutants were murdered nationwide yesterday and more than forty-three victimized by crimes that range from vandalizing property to attempted murder. We caught up with state Senator Robert Kelly to see what he had to say about these recent statistics."

The screen cut to a frantic scene where a man, Senator Kelly, was walking down a hallway, being battered by reporters with cameras and pads of paper at the ready. He said, "It's terrible when something like this happens, unfortunately, it's difficult to act on something like this, but rest assured justice will be served for mutants. This impulsive nonsense is no longer going to be tolerated in the United State o--"

"I can't believe this garbage!" Bobby Drake cackled at the television screen, turning it off in out and out disgust. He mocked Senator Kelly, " 'Eh, justice will be served for the better of American society'… Blah, blah, blah!"

Bobby Drake was a teenage mutant with the ability to manipulate the temperature to the point where it is winter even in the summertime. He wore his sandy, brown hair short and well groomed as he did with his face. Any normal boy his age would have zits littered across his face and a gangly five o' clock shadow, but Bobby Drake was one to constantly make sure that he didn't have any problems. He was built like a swimmer; very slender, but had a tremendous amount of muscle in his arms, legs, and abdomen region. You could call Bobby Drake a perfectionist.

There was a girl that sat next to him named Jubilation Lee. "Bobby, the guy was sticking up for _us_, you know that, right?"

Jubilation Lee was an extremely attractive teenage mutant with the ability to project an array of brilliant lights from her hands. She had jet-black hair that was pulled tightly behind her head into a streaming ponytail. She, too, kept her golden complexion untarnished by making sure no adolescent zits popped up. All of the boys admired her body, too, because it was so mature and shapely for a girl her age. She was developing into an attractive woman and it was painfully obvious.

"You're actually buying into what this Looney Tune says, Jubes? You _gotta_ be kidding me! Mutants won't stop being killed just because this guy says they will… Things don't happen like that!" Bobby said indignantly.

"_Well_," She snapped back. "He doesn't seem to be lying. Why would he lie about something like that? He'll do something about it, watch."

"_Why_ would he be lying? I'll tell ya why--" Bobby said, shooting back, but was quickly cut off.

"Hey," A voice grunted at the door. "Knock it off."

It was the enigmatic Logan. He was a short, stout man with plenty of muscle and hair. On his head, he wore his hair strangely; it was spiked up at the sides and it fizzled down to two pork chop sideburns on the sides of his rugged face. Along with the strange facial hair, stubbles of whiskers littered the lower region of his face and harsh, sharp features occupied the upper. His eyes seemed to be cut out by a knife; they were uninviting and violent just by the looks of them and his bushy brows, shooting downward in menace, did not help whatsoever. His height may have been stunted, but the rest of his appearance made up for it.

"Mister Logan, this girl's trying to tell me--" Bobby began to shout at the man at the door.

_SNIKT_! Three dagger-like blades shot out of his knuckles without warning. "_Now,_" Logan said. He smirked and walked away, leaving the two children clinging to each other in terror. "Kids," He said to himself, rolling his eyes. Two sprinted past him, running him into the wall. "Hey! Stop foolin'!"

Someone, an adult male, chuckled behind Logan's back. "I can see why the Professor wanted you. You have a thing, no, a _passion_ for children that just _shines_…"

It was Scott Summers, the man that could shoot lasers out of his eyes at will. Aside from the awkward looking visor that he wore over his eyes, he was a remarkably attractive gentleman. He combed his thick brown hair to the side and in an orderly fashion. His frame was nicely shaped and there didn't seem to be any irregularities on his body. His appearance was the epitome of authority and stature.

"Slim," Logan huffed. He turned around and looked at his colleague stone faced. "You know why I'm here. Watchin' these punks is just part of the deal."

"This is a school, Logan," Scott explained with little sympathy in his voice. "This isn't a place for your 'under the table' garbage."

Logan drew ever closer to Summers. He gave him an unrelenting, menacing look. "Toldja before it's not like that. You know how Xavier is. Chuck's helping me out with my life, I'm helping him out with whatever, hear?" Logan even brandished his finger and started jabbing Scott with it.

"Hey," Scott said sharply, pushing him well away from him. "I didn't come around her listening to you whine. Charles wants us down in the sub-basement for a 'faculty meeting', if you catch my drift."

Logan's ego was horribly bruised, however he put it aside at the mention of business. Underneath the verbal jarring, Scott had an actual motive. "Let's get to it then," He snarled, walking in the direction of the sub-basement.

"Where are those two?" Questioned Forge.

Forge was a very physically fit African American male who had the ability and the brains to make anything out of anything. A lot of people said that he resembled the Chicago Bulls legendary Scottie Pippen; others would have described him as a strange looking man. His hair was shaven neatly into a flattop, one that oddly resembled that of Wesley Snipe's. Rarely did anyone see his eyes because Forge wore silver lined goggles that ran thick around his eyes without a glossy finish. His face was structured like a statue; he was constantly stone-faced and cold so that he would always be respected and taken seriously. His body was very thick with muscle and scarred and tattooed on nearly every inch. Up and down his arms, there were tribal tattoos that resembled thorns and on his back he had a bible verses etched into his shoulders. A colossal machine leg replaced his one leg, too, something that people often goggled at in amazement. He was a man of discipline and respect.

"Who? Are you talking about Scott and Logan? Xavier, the guy that called the meeting, hasn't even arrived yet and you're worried about those two? _Please_…" Snapped Ororo Monroe.

Ororo Monroe was an African America who had the ability to manipulate the weather as well as a man's affection due to her natural beauty. She had streaming white hair that was neatly braided and her eyes were an intriguing green. Her nose was of perfect shape and her lips were lively and plump. Her facial features just seemed to flow together as if it were a tranquil river. Her body was shapely and it, too, seemed to have a certain grace to it.

"I swear," Forge said sighing with a hint of attitude. "Xavier's not here, Scott isn't here, Wolverine isn't here, and God knows where the others are…"

Ororo, usually edgy, sort of chuckled. "Yeah," She said to him. "We'll have to write late slips up for the kids and the dead beats that work here!"

"I'll tell ya," Wolverine said, coming down the stairs into the room where Forge and Ororo were. He had heard what they were saying. "Everyone around here's got a sense of humor. I almost expected more outta the two of you."

Scott Summers followed behind him. "Where's Xavier?"

"Who knows," Storm said almost harshly.

"To let you know," Forge chimed in with a satirical tone. "We haven't heard from any of the others, either. We're really a crack team, Summers."

"Enough," Scott said with a level of authority. Everyone was quick to follow him. "Now, I know that Xavier is busy with a student right now and I would assume the same for Piotr and Betsy. Keep it down while I get everything together for the meeting, alright?"

Just then, a brute figure walked down the stairs. It was a hulking man with broad shoulders and muscles that rivaled the size of tree trunks. Just looking at him gave you the feeling that you were physically inferior, which was probably the case. It was none other than Piotr Rasputin. He had jet-black hair cut neatly to resemble a military haircut. His face was stone cold and often the face of tragedy. His firm and uneasy expressions rested on his face because of his past life. At such a young age, Piotr was forced to grow up and he certainly expressed this on a day-to-day basis through his eyes and unrelenting expression.

"I'm terribly sorry," His voice boomed. "I was helping trying to separate a fight between two students?"

"Who?" Storm shot at him.

"Bobby Drake and Jubilation Lee. They were in the common room fighting over which channel they were going to watch."

"Arrggh!" Wolverine roared in frustration. "Told those kids to stop messin' around… They never learn."

"I'm sorry?" Colossus said, acknowledging Logan's animosity.

"'Fore I came down here those punks were at each other… Hadta use my claws to settle 'um down." Wolverine spat, he was beside himself in irritation at this point. He wasn't making any kind of eye contact with Piotr, the person who was conversing with him.

Colossus was going to say something to Logan, but Forge was quick to interject. "Easy, Piotr. Wouldn't wanna offend Logan's teaching methods."

"Can it, Forge," Logan growled. "I heard enough from Slim over here… I ain't hearin' it anymore." Forge shrugged and went over to a computer and began to use it. Logan struck something behind him out of frustration and began to mumble to himself while he paced the room. "Why I'm stickin' around here is beyond me…"

A door opened to the right of the handful of people in the room. There, a woman with extraordinary beauty walked in. She had straight, jet-black hair that reached down to her jaw that was strategically highlighted with lavender starting at her roots. Her eyes were an attractive brown and around them she wore a seductive purple eye shadow that reeked of intriguing attraction. Her lips were full, much like Angelina Jolie's and her body was like a model's. Her name was Betsy Braddock.

"Hello, everyone," She said, articulating her words. "I'm dreadfully sorry I'm late. I took my last class to the Danger Room today and they left quite a mess. I was in there trying to clean it up."

"Do the kids have weak stomachs or something, Betsy?" Storm asked her.

"No, no. They handled the training session well. No matter how many robots came there way, they worked effectively and got things done… The problem was all of the robots remains," Psylocke explained.

"All right, my X-Men," Rang a voice from the top of the steps. "I'm here."

It was Charles Xavier. He was a lanky gentleman with a baldhead; however, he carried himself very well. He had broad shoulders and a very intellectual expression on his face that gave him the natural look for a front man, especially something as insane as this.

"About time," Forge smirked at the Professor.

Charles smirked. Behind his serious, stone-faced features, he actually had a good sense of humor. "Now, let's not waste anymore time. There is growing concern for a small community beginning to form under the streets of New York City. Recently, I've noticed a number of mutants have moved into the sewer systems and subways of late and I've been monitoring some of their actions…"

"So?" Ororo sneered. She had decided that Xavier was wasting time with something painfully miniscule.

"_So_, I have reason to believe that they are gathering down there to retaliate against the general public for the mutants deaths of late."

"What makes you say that? Even with Cerebro, you can't tell a mutant's motive or thoughts for that matter… I didn't design it to do that, anyway," Forge responded to the odd assumption made by Xavier. "And, even if you're right, what's that gotta do with us? We're a school…"

"Well, there are a few things that struck me as odd," Xavier explained. "When I began to use Cerebro to track these mutants, I noticed that the majority of them had offensive powers. In fact, only a handful of these mutants had different kinds of powers. Another thing was, these mutants formed into small factions after a while and moved to strategic points in the city. Three different locations, in fact. I have noticed that they keep in contact with one another; they send candidates back and forth through this intricate system.

"What d'you want us t' do?" Logan said gruffly.

"Well, I'd like you all to check it out," Xavier said.

"You don't expect us to fight, do you?" Piotr asked. He had been unresponsive throughout the meeting because he wanted to gather all of the facts before jumping to a conclusion. "Forge is right. This is just a school. We're only teachers here, Professor."

"Teachers, but not bound by this building, Piotr. It's my dream to have all of us teaching the mutant community as a whole that we can get along with humans. They might be hostile, but, if we can show them that we aren't doing anything wrong, it will bring peace between the two groups. It will be difficult, but if you all stay committed, we can accomplish anything," Xavier explained. Once he had seen all of the people nod there heads or agree in some other fashion he went on. "I don't want you to create conflict with these mutants since, ultimately, we're trying to avoid it. I do want you guys to talk to them to see what it is they intend to do."

"All right, guys, let's do this," Scott said authoritatively. "Forge. Piotr. You guys prep the jet. As for the rest of you, I want you in the hangar by seven o' clock."

_New York City, New York_

"So," Ororo said, wading through the brackish sewer water that consumed most of the paths underneath New York City. "Does anyone wanna tell me how we're gonna get away with parking a jet on the top of an apartment building?"

"I told you," Forge said, getting irritated at Ororo and her incessant nagging. "The cloaking device that I designed will make it so it won't seem like it's even up there. I tore that Blackbird apart and made it so we could get away with having one… Don't worry about it."

"Yeah," Scott said, chiming into the debate as he trailed behind everyone so that he could tell they were all accounted for. "The Blackbird originally seated two people… Forge took it apart and made it so that all six of us could sit in it. How's that for impressive?"

All of them sort of grunted in agreement and approval, but, all things considered, there was nothing thrilling about what they were doing, not even the conversation they were indulged in. They had entered a manhole that led into the cavernous depths of the New York City sewer system. A maze that snaked around under the iron giant that was filled with sewage, waste and a stench that could have killed any regular person. Lucky for the likes of the X-Men, they were no ordinary people.

They all proceeded down the winding tunnels, following Logan, until he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Betsy Braddock asked him, puzzled.

"There's gonna be trouble," Logan mumbled under his breath. His claws suddenly shot from his knuckles and continued to take strides farther into the dark abyss before him. "Keep close."

Just then, a dark figure fell on top of Logan. The figure had been seen pounding at the unaware Logan with gigantic fists from as far back as Scott, who was trailing behind the team. Logan was quick to throw the person off of his back and against a wall, where he was helpless. He threw one of his fists at the figure; the three knife-like blades seemed more lethal than they had ever before. The stab would have been quick and nearly painless, however, the figure was much more than Logan had anticipated. A large purple bubbled formed around the person and suddenly burst, sending Logan into the wall parallel to the one the figure was pinned to.

"X-Men! Be on your feet!" Scott said, sprinting towards Logan with his two fingers resting on the side of his visor. As he ran a large bolt of blood-red energy shot from his eyes, lighting up the entire cavern while cutting through the water with ease. You could tell just by looking at it that it was packing some sort of power that no one could possibly imagine. It struck the figure. Scott ran up to him and said, "Forge, Piotr, take care of Logan. Get him out of that wall. Ororo, help me out."

Scott could hear Ororo's voice being muted by what he assumed was a hand. He turned around to find that another figure, this time a brooding, burly man, had seized Ororo. There was enough light in the area that Scott could tell that this figure was smiling. He turned around once again to see that the other figure had gotten to his feet again.

_Whap! _An irritating sound of dull objects hitting one another cut through the silence of the cavern. It was Piotr, covered in metal from head to toe, fending for Scott. He battered the mutant that had gotten off his feet from Scott's laser blast so that Scott was free to take care of the one that apprehended Ororo.

"Let her go and we'll let your friend over there go, too," Scott warned the brute who had a hand on Ororo, who was trying to escape his grasp desperately. Even through Ororo's tough hide, Scott could tell that she didn't know what to do. "You're friend won't last against him, you know," Scott warned the other figure about the one getting man-handled by Piotr Rasputin.

A pink light trickled from the man's back. It rose above him and formed into a dagger-like shape and went into his head. The figure's entire body shook as if a tremor ran through it. His hands, around Ororo, shot to the sides and his feet twisted together like a pretzel. Ororo fell from his clutches and he fell to the floor unconscious. Betsy was behind him with the pink knife jutting from her hand.

"Forget I was here?" Betsy said satirically to Scott and Ororo.

"Would you just get me outta this gunk?" Ororo said, running her fingers through the muddled water that she had landed in.

Scott walked over and lent a hand to Betsy who was trying to get Ororo off the ground and to Ororo herself. He said to the rest of the team, "Piotr, that's enough." Almost on queue, Piotr threw his last crushing blow and the person dropped. "Forge," Scott, said when he saw that Piotr had responded. "How's he doing?"

Forge sort of laughed. "He's fine. Always is."

"What now?" Betsy asked Scott.

There, a curse befell the mutants. More figures dropped from the ceiling until they were surrounded. The figures loomed over the group of mutants who were pinned against the wall where Logan was thrown. The figures, brooding like the second one that had gotten a hold of Ororo and, by the looks of it, just as powerful as the first one that had taken out Logan. Logan was the X-Men's most lethal fighter, if he was taken out by just one of these mutants, what would happen to each individual on the team that didn't hide metal claws behind their fists?

A woman broke through the group of figures. She was as dirty and as hideous as their surroundings. Her black hair was plastered to her skull and unkempt about her head. She wore an eye patch over her face and scars and legions littered her face carelessly. The woman wore a rugged and worn leather jacket with a fish net shirt and shredded jeans. Blotches of dirt was scattered around her body, too, making her uninviting and grotesque.

Forge looked up at Scott, who was staring blankly at the lady in awe. "We're in it deep, huh, Scott?"

"Shut up," Scott snapped, examining the myriad of people that surrounded him, including the woman. Whether he wanted to admit it, Forge was right, the X-Men were in a lot of trouble here.

The Xavier School for Gifted Individuals, Westchester 

A horde of what resembled giant crustaceans came scuttling towards the small group of fledgling mutants, led by the dashing young man, Samuel Guthrie.

Sam Guthrie was a straight-lased teenage mutant with the ability to fly when the lower portion of his body erupts violently. He had long, sandy blonde hair, worn the way a Beatle would have, long enough to cover his ears and cut into a bowl shape. The only thing that littered his perfect face was freckles and sort of a lazy bottom lip that was slung low most of the time. He was indeed a powerful figure in the eyes of his peers because of his handsome features and ability to lead a group.

"Stay close, guys," He told his group; they were all clinging to one another, hoping that the crabs did not try and attack. "I'll take care of things."

Sam sprinted towards the handful of giant crabs, gaining momentum and energy under his feet. Just as he was to take flight, something knocked him on his stomach. It so naturally, so spontaneously that Sam couldn't react in time to get back up and stop what was about to occur.

Bobby Drake, riding on a slab of ice towards the crab yelled to Sam, "You can't always be the hero, Guthrie. It's my turn!" It was a jab at Sam's character, something that Drake didn't quite like for some reason.

His back hunched over, and his arms directly pointing at his feet, producing ice, Bobby Drake looked as if he were surfing on this ice, with grace at that. The large crustacean brandished his two claws and took two large swipes at Drake, crushing the path on which he was riding on, but missing him completely. He simply jumped onto the crabs back and began to run along its rocky hide, trying to find a place to attack it at, however, his attempts floundered.

Sam got to his feet and backed up to join his classmates, all of which were acting as an audience to the rodeo in which Bobby Drake had taken part. The other crabs started to attack the other crab in effort to take out Bobby Drake, who, to them, was an impending threat. Claws began to reach over the crab and to Bobby, something he hadn't anticipated. He fell helplessly onto the crab's back and dodged the claws piercing through the air to get to him.

Another student ran past Sam, this time it was Jubilation Lee. She stopped and turned to Sam, "You ready?"

"Sure," Sam said with a determined smirk on his face. He brushed back his sandy hair and got in a ready position as if in a cross-country meet.

Jubilee ran to either direction of the group of crabs and fired a gallery of all sorts of different colored lights into the sky like a fireworks display. The crabs turned their attention to the lights and their source and began to crawl over towards her. Sam, who had sprinted, gained enough energy, shot into the air like a cannonball towards one of the crabs. He put his fists in front of his head and close together so that he was in the shape of a bullet. He was going at such a fast rate, that he went through the crab like a hot knife through butter and out the other end. The one crabbed spewed all sorts of lights and simply vanished. Meanwhile, Jubilee had moved under one of the crabs and shot the lights at its belly, sending the crab into convulsions until it, too, lit up and disappeared. The only crab left was the one with Bobby Drake on its back.

"Bobby," Sam shouted, hovering above the crab and him, safe. "Can you take it out?"

"How?" Bobby said, putting aside his blind animosity towards Sam because of the peril he was in.

"Be creative," Jubilee said satirically.

Bobby got to his feet and, like Sam, shot directly upwards, only leaving behind ice. This weighed the crab down to the ground, only able to flail his jointed legs feverishly. The ice crumbled as the last crab vanished into nothingness. Bobby was safe on the ground, as was Sam and Jubilee, who were all in the comfort of their peers now that the fight was over.

Their surroundings all of a sudden turned from a beach to a large room with peculiar panels running up along the wall until they met at the top, forming an egg shape. The students stood on a circular platform as big and as wide as the room itself was, which was particularly large, and there was something of a window to the right of the students.

There, sat Charles Xavier, monitoring and operating a computer. This computer controlled the room before him. Charles reached over and pushed a button, free to speak into the speaker system. He said, "Alright, class, well done!" After a few cheers of approval Xavier added, "You all are free to go grab some lunch until I find out what to do." His students filed out one by one. "Eh, Bobby, could I talk to you a second, please?"

Bobby, who was one of the last students to walk out the door, had shivers running along his spine at this point. He had never actually been called upon to talk to Xavier until now so he had every reason to be frightened. After all, Xavier was the man in charge.

Bobby entered the room in which Xavier sat comfortably. "Yes, sir?" He asked with a certain respect that he had been taught at the school.

"Your behavior in the Danger Room was rash and impulsive," Xavier explained. The severity of maturity and responsibility in such an environment was not taken lightly, especially in Xavier's eyes.

"I know, I know," Bobby said, his head down in embarrassment. "I was just trying to y--"

"Bobby," Xavier cut in. "I don't want any excuses. If you were to do something like that in the military or even in a company you would be fired or dead. Do not let your instincts and your bullheadedness get the better of you so much."

Bobby nodded and sulked out of the room, humiliated at the fact that he had been reprimanded.

Xavier put his hands to his forehead in frustration. "Where are they?" He asked himself aloud. His teachers were missing in action.

_**Chapter 2**…New York City, New York _

"Who is your leader?" The dirty woman that was to be called Callisto shot at the group of X-Men.

The X-Men had been escorted to a large room by the group of mutants that had dropped from the ceiling. The morale was low, so there was no energy to fight back, and they were all wondering what was going to happen next. With the exception of Logan and Scott, the group was left with a terrified feeling in their stomachs, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

"I _said_," Callisto hissed at the group of mutants. "Who is the leader?"

Scott, who was being held by a large mutant whose stomach was larger than any other body part, choked, "I am!"

Callisto walked over to him, kneeling to meet his blood-red gaze. She ran her finger from the bottom of his visor and down his clean-shaven face slowly and seductively. "I should've known," She sneered. "The all-American, clean-shaven _man_… What is your name, sir?"

"Scott," Scott said painfully. He opted it was best to comply with his abductor.

"Tell me, Scott," Callisto asked, getting to her feet once again and pacing the room. "Which of the two women do you think would do a better job of leading than you?"

"What are you playin' at?" Logan spat, getting indignant. The three men that were holding him beat him about his head to shut him up.

"I have a problem with how this world is run by men," Explained Callisto, whose hate for organization was shining through her dark features. "Throughout history men have done nothing but ruffle feathers and flex their muscles, thinking they are proving something to someone… I'm a woman and a woman that will soon change that." She smiled smugly at what she had said. "I'm a mutant, too, and I'm a mutant that will change how we're treated by these men." There was such a passion in her tone of voice and body language that it was etched into the memories of all that witnessed it.

Betsy, who was being held next to Forge, cracked, "Seems to me like she has a few screws loose." It was rare of her to make snide remarks, but she was only human and dropped a few here and there.

Forge hushed her mouth so that there was no conflict. "Shh!" He said, sounding harsh. Afterwards, he turned to Callisto, gazing into her single eye. "Are you raising an army to combat them?"

"What'd you just say?" Callisto spat.

"I said are you raising a--" Forge began, until he was cut off by the potent voice of Callisto.

"No, no. Not _you…Her_," Callisto said confronting Betsy with an offensive expression. "What'd you say?"

"M-me?" Betsy whimpered. "I- I told this gentleman to my side to calm down… He's, uh, he's unnaturally anxious and I--"

"Come with me," Callisto demanded, walking away from the group of prisoners.

The X-Men looked at Betsy, distraught. They didn't know what to expect out of the woman called Callisto and Betsy certainly didn't know what she was going to do. Scott nodded to Betsy, allowing her to follow Callisto so that something could move towards a solution to this ordeal. Truth told, if anyone Betsy would be the one person that could do it and Scott knew that. The mutant holding her against her will released Betsy so that she could hustle up and meet with Callisto alone.

Callisto didn't care to look back at Betsy, instead said, "So, tell me, have you ever thought about standing up for the better of mutant kind?"

"Yes," Betsy replied. "In fact, I think I already have."

"You've killed? My, a woman like you…" Callisto said, taken aback.

"No, no," Betsy began to explain. "I have joined the others out there to work at a school for young mutants."

"So, what's that doing? You're secluding the mutants from the world, you're letting them win!" Callisto said, finally turning to Betsy with such harshness and spitting in her face. Again, Callisto's feelings got the better of her.

"We are doing no such thing. The headmaster, Charles Xavier, is preparing a political position soon so that we can erase the stereotype and get rid of the mutant-hating public easier and without a death toll. Once these students graduate, too, they will be shipped out into the real world, whether they are ready or not. The last thing we intend to do is create an army."

Callisto sort of chuckled. "You honestly _believe_ that? A smart individual like yourself _actually_ believes that you can change a person's opinion just by talking to them? I chose you because I thought you were whom the leader would have chosen."

"Yes, I believe that. Something as simple and as tedious as education can put an end to the bigotry that we face. Fighting and killing people which, I must point out, are against the laws and it will get you nowhere but behind bars. I know that you are intelligent; too, you just have to put your stubbornness aside and think what you can do without a gun in your hand or a mutant power in your blood. Look at what Martin Luther King did. What's stopping you from doing something like that? What?" Betsy said, countering Callisto's feelings with her own, which proved to be just as powerful or, possibly, more powerful.

Callisto was paralyzed by the profound words that Betsy. She didn't know what to say, but "I know, I know I'm just furious that nothing can get done now. I want things done now so that I don't have to live in the sewers, so that all of these other mutants don't have to live in the sewers out of fear that the public will crucify them," She said, beating herself up over the fact that she was admitting she was doing wrong.

"Well, I only ask that you talk to Charles Xavier instead of taking actions into your own hands. Your consequential decisions could end in tragedy," Betsy said.

Callisto nodded sheepishly. "You and your friends are smarter than I thought you would be. For some reason, I thought you would all be jazzed and come in here acting like you were better than us. You proved me wrong," She said, shrugging her shoulders.

"So," Betsy said, extending her hand. "Friends?" It was a gesture to make peace between the warring mutants.

"Friends." Callisto said with a warm smirk on her face. Even her hideous face showed that Betsy and the X-Men were welcome again without harm or conflict.

_The Xavier School for Gifted Individuals, Westchester_

Xavier's resided on a cliff that dropped into a rocky shore that invited the Atlantic Ocean within its rocky barriers. The estate, of course, rested a good amount away from the cliff; there was a thick cluster of trees and all sorts of obstacles before any student could reach it. What was significant about this cliff, though, was that it had a mouth that would open on command for the X-Men's jet to land in the bay in which it rested.

The X-Jet at long last had reached the Westchester facility and was preparing to land. The engines almost shut off and allowed the jet to glide into the cliff, which was opening up a gigantic hole in the face of it's base for the jet to fit through. It carefully found its way into the hangar and continued down a path that would take it to the room where it would dock. Three prongs jutted out from the plane and clung to the floor at were being lowered and, at long last, the X-Men had made it home from a strenuous mission underneath the streets of New York City.

A staircase emerged from the belly of the jet, allowing the team to leave the jet and get on to their regularly scheduled things, something that they were reluctant to do every other time; this time, though, they were thankful to be coming back alive.

Scott got off the plane first. He saw to it that everyone got off safely and went along to their business, "Good job today, guys. We all did well."

Wolverine, who trailed behind Scott, but was still second to get off the plane, said, "Tell me what's so good about getting thrown through a wall, Slim…" He didn't even look at Scott and walked away.

"Don't mind him, friend," Colossus' voice boomed, leaving the jet. He patted Scott on the shoulder hardily and walked along not looking back, either.

Forge and Storm got off the plane arguing like brother and sister, ignoring the supportive Scott altogether, which he laughed off as he heard what they were talking about.

Then, Betsy got off the plane. "Going to walk me to class, are you Mister Summers?" Betsy asked, looking at him invitingly.

Cyclops smirked. "Yes, ma'am. I'd carry your books but you don't have any." He grabbed her around the hips and tugged her close and pecked her playfully. "But seriously, what are you up to this evening?" He questioned, meanwhile rubbing his nose against hers.

She pecked Scott on the lips, too, in return of his affection. The feelings between the two of them were mutual. "Well, I promised Jubilation Lee I would help her with her English assignment, but other than that I'm free."

"Sounds good," Scott replied. "I have to talk to Xavier about our New York City trip, anyway."

After they mingled, Scott and Betsy walked away from the X-Jet and the mission that had worn them out. It was time to get some rest and it was time to get their mind off of something that was so maddening.

New York City, New York

The sun had been long hidden behind the tall steel buildings and the bustle of the city had subsided, thankfully, riding into a peaceful night with nothing going on. Shops were closed and had their lights off and the only people walking around, it seemed, were people totting shopping carts with clothes and food in them trying to find a place to retire for evening.

A small mutant boy was also about, trying to find food in an alley so that he could have a meal. He was a small boy with orange scales covering his body. Where hair would have been on a human's head, the boy had a fin jutting from the middle of his skull. The boy had black goggle eyes that were much larger than regular eyes and his nose bridge rode all the way down to his top lip, leaving only just as little room for him to have holes on either side of his face where he would breathe. His mouth looked like his lips were constantly puckered to kiss someone, which made it all the more awkward to look him. This was a mutant that could not hide from the people that feared and hated him.

"Goodness," He mumbled to himself inside of the dumpster. "It's really amazing what people throw away…" He held to his eyes a half-eaten hamburger. He slipped it into his handbag and tried to climb out. He had a lot of difficult because of his short stature. "Aw, c'mon, Sammy! You can do this."

"Here," A voice rang from out side of the dumpster. "Lemme give you a hand…" It was a tall gentleman who extended his hand, seeming as if he was going to help the mutant boy.

The boy, Sammy Pare, looked up at him helplessly and grabbed for his hand so that he could get out of the dumpster. "Thank you, thank you, thank YEAOOOAAEWW!" He said and then immediately cried when the man grabbed his arm and literally threw him out of the dumpster. Sammy hit the wall parallel to the trash disposal and looked up at the man in fear.

There was maliciousness in the man's eye. "So, you're the one that's been snoopin' through my trash all this time and leavin' me a mess to clean up the morning after."

Sammy's eyes began to tear up. He was able to speak, but with difficulty because he was so frightened. "I-I'm so s-sorry, mister. I-I didn't m-mean to!"

"It's one thing if you're just a homeless man," The man said spitting at Sammy. "But it's a whole other ball park if you're a mutant!"

Sammy put his hands up in defense. "W-what are you gonna do to me?" He was in a panic state; his tears had dried up but he still felt as if he were crying.

The man took long strides over to the door to his shop and reached inside, pulling out a crowbar. The man smirked and said evilly, "You do the math."

Callisto secluded herself from the other mutants in the sewers so that she could enjoy her meal without having to hear the garbage coming out of her follower's mouths. It was a luxury for the mutants to live down in the sewers because they were able to live their lives without having to constantly look after themselves to make sure they were suitable for people, however, Callisto still had tendencies to do so. It didn't matter, now, though, because she was able to enjoy her plate of raw fish without having to hear what stupid things her people had to say.

Then, she watched out of her good eye, a burly man approach, with something draped over his arms. Her eyebrow shot to further up her brow in curiosity and hollered, "What is it, you?" She wasn't even really familiar with the figure.

The figure approached. It was revealed that he was holding the limp body of Sammy Pare. His body was without life; it was battered and bruised to the point where, if living, he would have needed serious medical attention. "It's Sammy, milady. He's dead."

Callisto had the wind knocked right out of her. Her eye brightened and her jaw dropped. She rose to her feet slowly and examined the body. "Who did this?" She asked with an unfamiliar tone. Callisto was worried.

The burly man stood before her and, for a while, said nothing. "Them," He said after a while.

Callisto immediately knew whom the man was talking about. "Put the body down," She snapped harshly at the man. The brute did as he was told and backed off a little, as Callisto knelt down beside the carcass and stared into its lifeless eyes. "She promised me this wouldn't happen," Callisto said to herself, under her breath. She was referring to Betsy. "The X-Men told me this wouldn't happen!" She screamed out in a blind rage. Without knowing, she clutched Pare's jean jacket and started tugging on it violently because she was so cross. "You know what," She spat, getting to her feet and pacing around the body. "I should've known this would happen. You can't trust people who are given everything they could possibly ask for. You can't listen to the people who can't feel for you. I thought that the X-Men could. I thought that girl could… But they can't. This is what happens when I'm told the people will change. This is what happens when I am supposed to hold in my animosity and not let it pour through my clenched fists? No… No more will I stand around and watch my people fall! Even when we live in the sewers we are not safe!" For anyone who had witnessed Callisto's testimony, you would have thought she was driven insane. Her body language and tone of voice were volatile and brash. In some respects, she sounded like a person that was too indulged in religion or with thought. She looked over at the burly man who had stood there the entire time. "Go get the others, we're going to show these people where their place is. My place sure as hell won't be the sewers for much longer…"

**Chapter 3**…The Xavier School for Gifted Individuals, Westchester 

Classes at Xavier's were, for the most part, calm and well-behaved classes, since the students knew the consequences if they were to get out of line unless, of course, if you were in Piotr Rasputin's art class. It was the class where you could express your individual train of thought and also loosen up a bit so that you could truly capture something in its essence, however, there was no real limit that Rasputin gave to this 'artistic independence'. Having students act up was something he didn't completely mind, but today, after a strenuous mission to through the sewers of New York City, he was particularly on edge with his students.

He sat with his arms crossed across his chest perturbed, watching his students throw their papers folded up into paper airplanes across the room. It was not in his character to act on his emotions because too often they would step in the way of logic, which could prove to be fatal in a situation. He may have remained silent, but he was strong physically and mentally. No one in his or her right mind could bottle up what he did and he didn't seem to be bothered by it.

"Hey, Guthrie!" Bobby Drake cried across the room. He was seated in his desk with a pile of papers before him. "Catch!" He picked one of the papers up and threw it at Sam. As it flew in the air ice collected on it until it finally became completely solid. It struck Sam hard in the head. Bobby began to laugh until tears poured out of his eyes. "I thought you said you were good at baseball!" He laughed harder.

Sam got out of his seat in sheer anger. "Get up," He said to Bobby. "Get up!" Even though his eyes were hidden behind his hair, Bobby could tell that he was being motivated by his frustration.

"What, man?" Bobby asked with a tough edge to him. He didn't want Guthrie to think he was scared. "Ever since first period, you've been saying how good you are at what you do… Why can't you prove it?"

"Oh, I can," Sam, said, the words coming out of his gritted teeth with difficulty. Then, he swung a fist at Bobby.

The two scuffled over a simple piece of paper being thrown in someone's direction. Bobby threw blows at Sam and Sam did the same all until Piotr came up to them and split them apart.

First, he stood up at his desk and concentrated long and hard, until the steel hide that made him invulnerable covered his entire body. He stomped over to the two of them and put his hands on one of the shoulders of his students. "That's enough," He said stone faced, looking at the two students, disappointed. "Both of you go to Xavier's office right now."

Sam threw his shoulder out of the way of Piotr's gigantic hand. "Why 'm I the one going when this fool threw the piece of paper to begin with?"

Bobby, too, escaped the grasp of his teacher. "You act like you're innocent! Please, you threw the first punch!"

Then, there was a knock on the door. "Follow me, you two," Rasputin said, walking to the door. He opened it, revealing that Logan was the one at the door.

"Let's go metal head," He grunted. "Xavier wants us down in the War Room. Something's up that he wants us to look at."

"I'll be there in second, Logan," Piotr said. "These two gentlemen need to be taken care of with Xavier."

"Is that a fact?" Logan questioned, walking into the room. He began to circle the two delinquents like a shark would its prey. "You two givin' him trouble, eh? I t—You," He was in the middle of telling these two people something until he recognized Bobby. "You're the big guy on the campus aren'tcha? The one who thinks he's entitled to tha remote control over the misses, right?" His claws shot out of his knuckles. Logan sneered, "You get tired of lookin' at these yet? Cuz lemme tell ya, once these come out, Logan don't play…"

"I-I'm s-sorry, sir," Bobby yelped, actually clinging to Sam.

Logan shook his head in disgust with the student. "Go to your dormitories, all of you. Xavier says to wait for directions from there."

"What's going on?" A girl asked in the back of the room.

"Doesn't matter," Logan said flatly. "Just get goin'."

The children began to file out, the teachers, though, stayed back until everyone was accounted for. Piotr had returned to his flesh and Logan had put away his claws. When the last student was out, the two of them walked out and towards the War Room.

As they were walking, Logan smirked and laughed at himself for the way he treated the students. "You gotta show 'um who's the boss, Pete," Logan said, looking at him with an arrogance in his eyes.

"Yeah," Peter said in his deep, monotone of a voice. "You know, you make me jealous having those claws. I wish I could just bully my students around with those things." He didn't so much as look up at Logan at all. Like Scott, Piotr did not approve of Logan being around.

"Take 'um," Logan said abruptly. "I didn't ask for 'um." He walked on ahead, leaving Piotr behind. He was someone of a drama queen when it came to talking about him, his past in particular.

The X-Men had all met in the War Room promptly. There was a general feeling of confusion and concern with the exception of Xavier, who was the only one who knew what was going on. Regardless of this knowledge, he still was very severe and serious about the need to meet in the War Room, the room that was used so often of late.

"What's going on?" Ororo asked, crossing her arms with impatience.

Xavier was unable to look up at his colleagues and friends. "I'm afraid whatever you said to the underground dwellers in New York City went in on ear and out the other."

"How do you figure?" Wolverine mumbled.

"Well," Xavier said. "I can show you." He turned on the television monitor.

A brutal picture of violence and pandemonium was painted on the screen. A city block had been turned into what appeared to be a war-zone; there were cars turned over and there were SWAT vans filled with officers filing in on one side and, on the other side, a band of mutants were attempting to take lives. Shots were exchanged however innocent lives didn't appear to be taken. In New York, there seemed to be a state of panic and confusion. Even though it was one block out of the innumerable ones in the city, it did seem to make everything coming to a screeching halt.

"Oh," Forge muttered in disbelief. His jaw, along with the other X-Men's, hung low while his eyes beamed in shock. Goose bumps ran up his arms and his hair on his neck stood on end. It was another one of those scenes that people mistook for a movie. It was painfully surreal for the likes of the X-Men at that point.

"What are we doing waitin' round, dammit?" Logan cackled. Usually in the War Room Wolverine was a stoical figure that hung in the shadows, however, this time, he was lively and passionate about doing something about what was going on.

"I'm afraid we can't do anything, Logan," Xavier said. "It's something that we will have to leave to the authorities."

"Whatever happened to teaching these Morlocks what's right and wrong, Xavier?" Piotr asked, his deep voice a little more offensive than usual.

"I do not think that we can talk to them while they are throwing cars at the authorities. We're too late…" Xavier hung his head. He had admitted defeat.

"I can teach 'um plenty," Logan said, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"No, Lo--" Xavier began to say but was promptly cut off by Scott.

Scott Summers, who had remained silent, spoke for the first time. "Charles, you're all wrong with this. I can't even believe you're just going to let this happen," He said throwing his arm at the television screen. Scott had a tremendous amount of respect for Xavier; however, he found it hard to do so now. "If dreams aren't worth dying for than what's the point? I didn't just come to this school to teach these kids how to fit into a society; I came here to change it for myself, too. If we helped out the NYPD, do you know how much positive publicity would come out of that for mutants?"

"My dream is worth dying for," Xavier said, finally looking someone in the eye, in this case, Scott. "I do not want to dispose of other people's lives for my dream, though. It's selfish."

"I want this, Charles. So do the rest of the people sitting around you," Scott said. "I'm going to help out whether you like it or not." He gave Xavier an unrelenting, stubborn eye and looked over at Betsy, who was smiling subtly. "Who's coming with me?"

Logan had a grin that reached from ear to ear. Although his eyebrows were still cocked downwards, giving him an almost seductive look, the X-Men could still tell that he was overjoyed to help out Scott. "You got balls, Slim. I'll make sure nothin' happens to 'um out there." Wolverine stepped forward.

"I'll help," Betsy said. She stepped forward.

"Me too," Piotr boomed. He stepped forward.

Forge laughed, "I guess you'll be needing _someone_ to fly the plane." He stepped forward.

Ororo stood against a wall, her arms still crossed in agitation. All of the X-Men's eyes rested on her, which made her all the more frustrated. "If ya'll would stop lookin' at me like that, I'd say I would help," She snapped. They all sort of looked away, telling Ororo that they wanted her to come along. "Fine, I'm coming, too."

Scott looked at the group, "Colossus, Forge, go get that jet ready. Everyone else head to the hanger." They all filed out through the same door and were going to prepare to go to New York City to settle the conflict between the NYPD and a group of radical anti-human mutants. Then he looked at Xavier, "Charles."

"Scott," Xavier said, walking towards him with caution. "You're a very ambitious man. A very strong man. You're someone that can lead a team. Please bring my X-Men home safely."

"Always," Scott replied, assuring Xavier their safety. "You have my word no one will get hurt."

New York City, New York 

The commanding officer concealed behind his van hollered to the opposing side, "What're you fussin' about, lady?! We've been out here for three hours and all you've done is flip cars to get our attention… You've got our attention now tell us what the hell you want!"

Callisto walked out from behind her hiding place, a tossed around car that was badly battered around. She walked with her hands high into the air and her strides were small, yet significant because every step she took, the authorities would flinch, not knowing what to expect from the mutant next. It was the world's first situation like this and, at this rate, surely not the last. "On average, for the past year, over 52,000 mutants have been killed! That's more than the number of American troops killed in Vietnam. That war last over ten years… That's _disgusting_! It's _genocide_ and, yet, the mutants are still being called the savages, the barbarians, and the _threat_. The slaughtering continues and nothing has been done about it. _Nothing_! This group of mutants and I were driven into the sewers because we didn't feel safe and now, finally, after one of our own was taken at the hands of a man, we're doing something about your insolence!" Again, her emotions consumed her to the point where the cops thought she was insane. It didn't help when she decided to pull out a handgun. She cocked the gun and pointed the barrel at the fuel tank of the police van and cried, "Let this be the first shots fired of the mutant rebellion!"

Callisto's mutant ability was subtle, however, extremely effective once she wanted to use them. Her senses were heightened, which meant should could do anything better than the next person and then some. She could see something better than a person with glasses, she could hear a pin drop at a rock concert, she could smell things from miles away, she could react more to something that happened spontaneously and she could certainly fire a gun at the head of a nail and it hit directly standing from an uncanny distance. She pulled the trigger of the gun and hit the fuel tank with ease. There was no question she could hit that directly. The explosion rattled the street and tossed the men standing behind it further away from the conflict. Fire consumed the van and a few men, too, and the others were quick to relocate behind another. It was truly a fight now, and it seemed all odds were against the NYPD this time.

"All right, men," The commanding officer ordered. "Get your asses ready to fire. We can no longer compromise!"

"Compromise? Compromise?!" Callisto croaked. "There was never such a thing!" She looked at the gun and laughed. "Too easy," She muttered. She turned around and looked at the band of mutants waiting behind the upturned car. "Get them!" They hustled from their hiding places, however, before they even passed Callisto, she stepped in front of them and said, "Wait!" Her nostrils flared upwards and she looked up into the sky. "The X-Men are here."

"How do you know?" One of her supporters asked, puzzled.

"I can smell 'um…" She replied with frustration.

The jets cloaking device made it possible for it to land on the building just above the scene where the Morlocks were attacking the SWAT team. The X-Men were quick to exit the plane and to the ledge of the building, waiting for Cyclops to tell them what they were going to do.

Betsy was perched on the corner of the building, looming over the scene and concentrating so that she could telepathically gain information. "They've got hostages, Scott. Callisto's lackeys have taken a large group of people into the building across the street."

"Alright," Scott said. "That means there's this street that we need to take care of and a building full of hostages, which will be the most difficult part of this particular mission." His mind was buzzing with confusion and frustration; on top of the feeling that he couldn't do anything about the situation before him, there was a voice inside his head that was nagging him, telling him that he was bound to fail. Scott didn't allow his teammates to see that he was vulnerable right now. They were convinced he was the person with the strongest will out here. "This is what we'll do. Piotr, Ororo and Logan will take care of the street. It's strictly an offensive move. If they have to deal with the two most lethal people we have, than they won't see the rest of us moving in and out of these buildings getting the hostages to safety. Here are communicator's," Scott distributed circular objects to each of his teammates. They were gold with a black "X" in the middle of them. "Forge will fly us over to the other side of the street and you two will wait here. When we let you know that we've made it safely into the building and have freed all of the hostages, you guys will drop in and do your best to stop the mutants in the street. They're most likely the strongest since they are playing the offensive role, so please do not underestimate them. Is this all clear?"

"You betcha," Said Forge.

"No," Snapped Callisto, who retreated behind the upturned car again. "We're not moving until I have an idea what the X-Men are going to do! They're more of a threat than these police officers and you, of all people, should know that after they threw you through a wall!"

While the scene on the street came to an odd standstill, the jet mad it safely across the street and to the top of the building. Scott, Forge, and Psylocke got out and stopped dead in their tracks.

"They'll see us," Psylocke said, pointing at a video camera. "They've probably taken over the security monitors."

Forge sort of chuckled. "Since when did we all start worrying about _video cameras_? Bah! Video cameras! You've got _me_." Out of the belt that he wore over his chest, he pulled out what appeared to be a hand-held radio. He flipped a switch and the camera, which was cocked in an upward position fell and the door, which was electronically locked, swung opened. "I brought a few toys with me. This one will come in handy."

"Good job," Scott said. "Let's get going."

Betsy, Scott, and Forge, worked their way down the stairs of the building deftly silent. The mission was one that if a small, minor mistake was made, there could be fatal, catastrophic consequences attached and that was something that the three of them and probably the three sitting on the building across from them didn't want. Not a word was spoken and none of them intended to say anything to the others and their steps taken were small and muted. It was difficult since the building was a tall one at that, however, the X-Men managed to do it without noise. When they finally reached the lobby door, it was Betsy to say the first thing.

"I'll see if we're close," Betsy said in a hushed tone. She concentrated hard, her mind penetrating the door and out into the expanses of the ground floor of the building they had slipped into. "There's a man outside of this door and we're clear until we get into the actual lobby, Scott."

She concentrated harder until a dazzling pink blade grew from her palm. Forge crept over and began to open the door. The guard was quick to react and swung the door opened, but Betsy was faster. She shoved the pink knife derived of her power between the man's eyes and let it sit until he jumped into convulsions. After that, his limbs spread out and he collapsed on the ground with little sound because Betsy made sure he didn't hit it hard enough so that it would make such a noise.

They slinked on all fours through the ground floor of the building until they reached the lobby. There, they discovered just how many hostages there were. It appeared to the X-Men that anyone in the vicinity of the street stand-up, meaning all of the surrounding buildings, were drained of its dwellers and placed in this one lobby so that they could all keep a watch on these people. Scott, Betsy, and Forge all wondered why they hadn't killed them yet, however, they didn't stop to think any more about that; they wanted to save them after all.

"Forge, could I see that gadget you used earlier?" Scott asked.

"What do you need it for?" Forge replied.

"I want to shut out the lights," Scott said. "That way, they'll have no idea what hit them. We can dispose of them faster and more effectively than just running in there and beating them over the head."

"Scott, you should have just told me so," Forge said satirically. He pulled the hand-held radio device out of his belt once again and hit a switch. The lights fell and the room was submerged in total darkness. Not even the emergency lights kicked on. The lower level of the building now lacked power.

The men that were guarding the hostages moved around in puzzlement. Scott, Betsy, and Forge could see that they were confused and didn't know what was going on. They paced the room with a little more meaning than before and even went a little further in their paths, leaving the hostages behind.

"Here comes two," Forge said, smirking. "And there's one behind the counter."

Betsy was quick to react to the two. In one swift movement, she swept her feet around and tripped the two of them. She shoved pink knives of energy into their heads, rendering them unconscious. The other guards had seen what happened and, all of sudden ran their way. Forge found a gadget that resembled a small boomerang and tossed it in their direction. It stuck one of them in the knee and flew out and tied the two of them up. They, too, fell unconscious.

After that, Scott moved in and addressed the group of hostages, "Attention!" He cried, pacing through the rows of people. "You're safe now, but we ask that you all stay where you are. This is more than a hostage situation and we only ask for your cooperation before we can release you. Thank you." Scott walked a way, part of him feeling extremely relaxed. They had avoided a big scene in the hotel lobby and they had taken care of all of the mutants that were guarding them without any casualties. "Good job, Betsy. Forge. You did well. Now, we'll have to tell the others that they're set to take care of the streets."

Betsy took out her communicator. "Logan. Piotr. Ororo. Do you read me?"

Logan, Piotr, and Ororo were sitting on the ledge of the building, keeping an eye on the scene. From where they were sitting, it could be said that the scene had subsided; the two sides were currently inactive and nothing was really going on.

Then, on the ground, Callisto immediately got to her feet. Using her heightened sight, she looked up at the ledge and saw that the X-Men had been sitting there. "Alright," Callisto said, gritting her teeth. "We've got 'um now…" She mumbled to herself. She got her handgun and pointed it in their direction.

"We read you," Piotr replied. "Loud and clear, Betsy."

"You guys can move in," hummed the communicator.

Then, a bullet came out of nowhere and struck an unsuspecting Logan in between his eyes. He flew back a few feet and coiled into the fetal position in shock and pain. He shot a single claw and stuck it to his head, cutting out the bullet, which was embedded into his skin before his skin healed over it. Logan had a healing factor that would speed up the progress of healing a wound significantly. He tossed the bullet aside and looked down in utter disgust. "Let's make 'um hurt," He sneered.

**Chapter 4**…New York City, New York 

"Hold on, Logan!" Demanded Piotr with all of his might. "We're not just going to run in there like chicken's with our heads cut off! That's insane!"

Logan was being held back by the brute, because, when he got shot, all he could imagine doing was slaughtering the Morlocks and think nothing of it. It was Logan's philosophy to shoot, or kill, first and ask questions later. "What do you think Slim had in mind, Russkie? He wanted us ta' attack them!" He jerked his hand out of Piotr's grip and threw his fists in a downward fashion. His claws flicked out on command. He turned around and looked at his two partners and smiled evilly. "I'll see yah down there…" Logan gained momentum and swan dived off of the building.

Logan had convinced his two teammates that he was insane. There was no question that anyone sane would jump off a building this tall without thought. On the contrary, though, Logan was different than everyone else. It seemed like he didn't need to think before he acted; he tended to cross the bridge when he got there. The swan dive slowly molded into a flip that turned his body in another direction so that it would be facing the building. He had his arms out and his legs shooting downwards; he resembled Jesus on the crucifix at this time. He threw both arms forward and they dug into the side of the building. He pushed against the downward momentum of his legs and his feet met the building, too, so that he could scale down the building with ease and with less speed. He rode down the entire building without a single problem that anyone would expect to crop up. Call it luck, but skill had a lot to do with it, too; Logan was a very talented man despite his mutant abilities.

Logan jumped off when he met the ground. He saw the Morlocks charging in his direction with such hostility in their eyes, however, that didn't seem to bother him. He hunched over with his claws out and chuckled. "I've dealt with a lotta garbage in my life," Logan sneered. "But no one can top your stink…" He was talking to the general mass of Morlocks, laughing insanely afterwards.

He met a handful Morlocks in the center of the street and started mauling them with his claws. Logan was furious and cutting through his opponents the best he could. It was tough, though, because a number of the Morlocks that had attacked him had hides as thick and as stubborn as a rhino's and some even produced force fields that could be used both offensively and defensively. It was a war; one man versus what would usually be impossible odds.

"Logan!" Cackled Ororo. "What the hell is he thinking?! First he rides a building to the streets and then he runs into a group of pissed off mutants? What's wrong with him?" She seemed to be worked up over Logan's rash decisions.

"We need to get down there and help him out," Piotr said sternly. He didn't think it was necessary to have a fit, especially in a situation like this. He was unusually calm throughout this entire ordeal. "You have any ideas?"

Ororo made a fierce wind kick up around her. It was so violent that it picked her off of the ground. "I have a few," she muttered to Piotr. And she, too, dived off of the side of the building.

"Oh, don't tell me," Piotr muttered to himself. "Do I have to use the _stairs_?!"

This time, though, it was more practical, since, after all, Ororo could fly. Because of her ability to change the climate and weather patterns, she could manipulate the wind around her so that she could fly. She could only do so for a limited time, but that was all she needed. She gracefully flew down the side of the building and joined Logan after her flight. She landed on both feet and faced the interesting scene.

Callisto ran out from behind the car. "No, no more!" She cried. "All of my plans are ruined because of all of you! I've held off on killing the people I have captured in that building over there, and I have held off on killing these cops… All because of you! I knew you would stand in my way and I couldn't deal with bodies with you coming in and making it more difficult for me to do what I must… Show the world that we're just as good as them."

"That's why we're here, too," Ororo said. "Just, we wanted to show you that you're about ten times better than they are. You don't have to fight." When need be, Ororo Monroe could put aside her witty lip in exchange for a more serious, more business-like attitude towards the world. In her opinion, it was the only effective way to be sane in a situation like the one she was in with the X-Men.

"I've heard enough of your empty promises," Callisto barked. "You're fed everything you could possibly imagine and I have to earn it… Even then it doesn't add up! So I'm taking it back. I'm taking it all back!" These words didn't make an ounce of sense to Ororo, who received, them but made perfect sense to Callisto. She was speaking about how it was unfair, or not just, that humans could get away with the things that they did and the mutants couldn't, even though they had done nothing. Now, she was giving the humans a reason to worry about mutants in reassurance of the hate crimes that she has heard of.

She charged at Ororo, hoping to exchange fists with her. Callisto swung her entire body into a blow to Ororo's head, which struck spot on. Ororo fell to the ground in pain. Her eyes swelled with tears because she was in so much pain, however, she still found the strength in her to crawl around and attempt to get up. Ororo, while she was getting up, swung her entire arm at Callisto but the shot was blocked. Ororo got to her feet and tired to swipe Callisto's footing from her with her shin, but that, too, was blocked with ease. Blows were exchanged on both sides. Callisto took some as did Ororo, but there didn't seem to be a definite winner yet.

Meanwhile, Logan was in a much more elaborate battle. There were about four that were still standing, the rest of them had fallen at his swift claw swipes and jabs to the stomach. The remaining fighters were among the most brutish, most menacing mutants that Logan had ever seen. One resembled an elephant, only the tusks shot from his temple and he had not trunk, another resembled a man entombed in a purple light, who, after a while seemed to blast energy from his hands at Logan, and the two remaining mutants were twins that appeared to be dragons standing upright on two legs. Logan combated them the best they could, but the odds were against him; he had been fighting with all of his energy for a while now and the battle, which waged for the same amount of time, was beginning to take a toll. Although he was weakening, he persisted and still continued to through his claws in the direction of the two dragons, the two people he thought would be easiest to stop at this point in time.

Colossus hustled down the stairs at the fastest rate he could, which wasn't much since he was such a big person. He was sprinting down the stairs at one point, but once he lost count of what floor he was on he slowed it down to a gradual jog, which wasn't effectively getting him down the flight of stairs and to the streets to help his teammate out. Part of him wanted to blame Logan for his instinctive decision, which ultimately convinced Ororo to make the same one, but, really, he had no one to blame but himself. It was not in him to resent anyone when he was involved in a team effort. It was yet another strength that he had apart from his steel skin.

"Piotr," the communicator rang from his jean pocket. "Where are you guys?! We've been trying to get a hold of you!"

Piotr dug into his pocket and took out the communicator. "Haven't you been looking out the window, Scott? Logan and Ororo ran ahead without me and their already in the thick of things… They're probably going to need your help!"

"I've gotta watch the people in here!" Scott said.

Piotr was getting frustrated, but refused to show it as he started to pick up speed down the stairs. "Send Betsy out. She'll know how to talk to Callisto, right? I think that's our best option right now."

Callisto roared, attempting to intimidate her opponent, Ororo, who had taken flight now. She saw that the Morlocks were coming by the dozen out of the sewers and she needed to take care of them instead of go hand to hand with their leader right now. Logan had too many people around him already; she was there to make sure there were no more. Callisto got out her gun and started emptying her clip into the air at Ororo, though none of the bullets made any sort of contact.

Callisto put her gun to her side, and looked up at Ororo with fierce eyes. "Let me ask you something," She said, walking nearer to that of Ororo, who had decided to land. It was an odd instance but Ororo, still ready to fight, thought that there may be a solution afoot. Ororo gave her a nod and Callisto was cleared to ask her a question. "I'd really like to know why you're doing this. Why are you helping these people over here?" She asked, pointing at the handful of SWAT members still huddled in one spot; they realized that their safest option now was to stay out of it. "These people are as responsible as the people actually committing the murders and, yet, you are willing to give up your life for them?!" Her voice escalated in volume and in frustration, too.

Callisto didn't allow Ororo to answer; instead, she threw a fist right into her jaw, which flattened Ororo almost just as fast as she was struck. Ororo looked up at Callisto and put her hand out, extending her fingers in all sorts of different directions. This time, Ororo wasn't going to play around. She didn't like using her powers because she felt that she didn't have control over them, however, she didn't have much more of a choice. At first, there was nothing, then, as time passed, sparks started to jump around frantically around in Ororo's palm. They were playing around at such an insignificant rate until Ororo's hand started to shake as if she was having a seizure, when the sparks started to conjoin and create much more powerful looking electricity. Creating lightning from her hand was something that she could do because of weather manipulating powers.

"Ororo," Cried Piotr, who was running from the building behind her. "Stop!"

Ororo sort of gasped and snuffed her lightning beam out. "What's going on, Piotr?" Ororo asked, thinking that something was going on that she didn't know about.

"Betsy's going to handle her," Piotr explained. "Just do your best to talk with the SWAT team over there to see what they can do to clean this up!"

Ororo nodded and flew off towards the police officers, still sitting behind their van.

Piotr, on the other hand, had a handful of Morlocks running at him, too. Logan and him attracted the most people only because they were the two biggest threats. For Piotr, some were easily taken down in one hit because steel being swung at such an alarming rate is never weak. Others, on the other hand, were stubbornly able to stand due to their mutant abilities, whatever they may be. Within minutes, the handful that attempted to lynch Piotr was reduced to an unimpressive two people. A mutant twice his size stood before him in the fray and a man half his size stood there, too. It was one of the most difficult fights Piotr took part in because he constantly had to fight in two different directions. Although it was a matter of difficulty, Piotr was a seasoned fighter and seemed to be handling the fight almost professionally.

Logan was laughing now. His head was actually spinning and the fight exhausted him, but he persisted taunting his opponents so that he didn't show any sign of weakness, which was something that he would never show to anyone. Now only one mutant left standing against Logan, they circled around one another, attempting to catch the other off-guard. It was something that was taken directly from television wrestling; the way they paced around the ring, the street, and the way they took jabs in the air trying to intimidate the other was almost comical.

It was the Morlock's mistake for opening his mouth. "What're you afraid of me?" He asked, with a smile from ear to ear.

Logan ran forward and swiped his claws in the neck region of the mutant and ended up behind him. The mutant fell to his knees, clutching his neck; blood was fountaining out of three slice wounds to his neck and he was in the middle of the street, helpless, because all of his teammates were too preoccupied. He finally collapsed and lay on his stomach, unconscious. He was the only one that Logan actually killed; the others were all seriously wounded.

"'Teach you not to open y'ur mouth, bub…" Logan mumbled to himself, walking away from the fight.

"Miss, let me get this straight," the SWAT commander said. "There are hostages in that building yonder that you want us to take care of? How do you expect us to get over there in one piece?"

Ororo smirked, although, really, she was getting irritated with these police officers. "Me," She said. "I'll take you over to them without a single man falling. You have my word."

The SWAT leader was hesitant. "I don't know if I can trust you…"

"Of course you can trust me," Ororo snapped. "I was just trying to take down that Looney Tune over there!"

"Alright, alright," the gentleman said. "Let's move out."

Ororo took flight once again. She got out her communicator and said, "Scott, I've got the SWAT team on the move, they'll take care of the hostages… You should come out here and stop this fighting before it gets out of hand…"

"'Read you, Ororo," Forge's voice answered through the communicator. "Bring 'um in."

She flew at a steady speed, making sure that the SWAT team was right behind her. Things got troublesome when groups of Morlocks were charging in their direction, but Ororo was smarter than to let them be attacked. She fired warning shots of lightning towards them, keeping them away from the authorities and, if they refused to take the hint, Ororo would actually hit them, sending them into cars or trees that just so happened to be on the street. It was a tedious mission, but one that had to be accomplished without a single man wounded. Ororo did a good job at keeping these men safe and they reached the building without getting touched.

"Thank you," The SWAT leader said to Ororo. "I guess there are exceptions…"

"To what?" Ororo said, puzzled.

"Well, I was under the impression that all mutants were bad, miss," the SWAT leader said. "You and your friends have proved me wrong today." He smiled and entered the building.

Once the SWAT team was situated in the building, Scott, Betsy, and Forge poured out. They were all fairly tired, but that wasn't really an issue to be tackled at this point. They still had a job to do.

Scott got right down to business. "Alright," He said panting. "Ororo, fly Forge to the top of this building and prep the jet, we're making this a quick clean up. We've saved all of the people we can, we don't need to have Logan or Piotr take any. Betsy, you'll talk to Callisto and I'll get the Morlocks taken care of."

Everyone nodded and went on there way.

Betsy and Scott ran into the scene. Morlocks had been flocking around Piotr and he was doing the best he could to take them out, however, he didn't appear to be doing that entirely well. The sheer numbers of these people overwhelmed him. Callisto could be sound sitting safely away from the fight, orchestrating how the fight was to be fought. Over turned cars were now shooting smoke out of them and trees were uprooted and strewn across the street. This needed to be cleaned up.

Scott rushed into the circle and put his hand to his temple, ready to release a beam of dazzling blood red laser at the group surrounding Piotr and now Logan, too, who had joined the fray out of nowhere. Scott was well aware that the two of them could endure a blast, but didn't think that the Morlocks were all that durable. It may have been a silly idea that lacked strategy, but it had to be done since Scott thought this had already gone on for too long. He pressed into the side of his gold visor and, in an instance, a large blast of red shot from his eyes at an alarming rate. Like a wave, it swept many Morlocks away from Logan and Piotr who had kept their footing and knocked them all out.

The others flanked Piotr and Logan after that blast. It was a furious battle between two X-Men and a lot of Morlocks. Punches were exchanged and claws were swiping through a lot of people. The fight seemed a little too overwhelming for the X-Men, though; they were adding bodies to the piles that were forming right by the building where they first landed. Piotr ended it when he finally just took one of his arms and swiped all of the remaining Morlocks into the pile.

"Show off," Logan said to Piotr, trying to catch his breath.

The fight was seemingly over and Scott was anxious to get everything cleaned up.

"Make sure they don't get u--" Scott said to Logan and Piotr, but was suddenly struck in the back. He was hit with so much force that he fell forward and was in too much pain to get to his feet.

Callisto stood behind him, the barrel of her gun smoking. She had shot Scott right in the shoulder blade. Logan and Piotr looked at her in awe, as did Betsy, who was all of a sudden frantic. Logan and Piotr rushed to Scott's body to see what was going on.

"What will the X-Men do now without their leader?" Cried Callisto. She smiled and turned around to Betsy, too. "You," She hissed. "The one that's all talk… You stepped in my way and ruined everything… _Everything_! Now, it's your turn, honey…" She cocked the gun and fired at Betsy, too.

This time, though, things were different. Betsy's eyes turned an eerie pink and she shot her hand forward. The bullet remarkably stopped before it hit her palm and dropped to the ground. Betsy was furious at this point. Scott was shot and losing a lot of blood and she knew that Logan would only take the bullet out. There was nothing else they could do about Scott for now. She started marching towards Callisto; her eyes still a very potent pink.

She spoke into her communicator, which was attached to her shirt at the left breast. "Bring the jet down… We're done here," Betsy with little enthusiasm or actual motive; it was as if she spoke to herself when she said that.

Callisto started to walk backwards, seeing the look in Betsy's eyes. Betsy pursued Callisto and even picked up speed. Callisto ran herself back to the pile of the unconscious Morlocks. There, her eyes too turned a dazzling pink. Betsy was quick to dispose of her, too. Betsy picked her off of the ground, using her telepathic powers and tossed her hard into the pile of mutants.

Callisto still had some fight in her, though. "You know this won't be the end… If not me, there'll be other mutants out there that will be willing to die for equality… They'll _die_!"

"I know," Betsy said. "I know because I am willing to die for a just cause, that being equality. They are willing to die for equality," Betsy said point at Logan, Piotr, and Scott. "We're not willing to senselessly kill people, thinking that'll help any… We're willing to take the road less traveled."

Callisto sneered and she was going to say something, only the SWAT team had joined Betsy. They all had their guns pointed towards her and she was soon after apprehended. A few men moved in and started to collect up some of the Morlocks and cart them away to a new van, which had been called in when the SWAT team had let the hostages go. The clean up effort had begun and the X-Men had completed their mission.

"You guys did a hell of a job," the SWAT commander said to Betsy. "Thank you!"

She had seen the jet land behind her and she had seen Scott being carried on by Piotr. Betsy couldn't feel as if they won because Scott had been wounded, regardless of the fact that they had, indeed, stopped the Morlocks from doing any more damage.

Betsy turned to the police officer and smiled sheepishly. "Any time," Betsy said. "We'll always be here to help."

Westchester, New York 

"Is he going to be alright," Betsy asked. She was panicking in front of Forge, who was blocking the door to the infirmary, where Scott was resting.

"He'll be fine," Forge said. "The professor and I cleaned up the wound and removed the bullet, he just needs his rest right now. C'mon, follow me."

He put his arm around her shoulder and walked her in the other direction. He took her past the common room, where the television was on. A group of students were watching the news.

"… Again, the skirmish between a militant mutant group and a SWAT uniform has finally come to a head thanks to a group of mutants that were willing to help New York City, despite the animosity towards them. An estimated one hundred, thirty-four mutants were apprehended, including leader, Callisto, who organized this first attempt at fighting for mutant supremacy. All criminal mutants will be sent to Ryker's Detention and Correctional Facility until the government figures out just what to do about the mutant public. It should be interesting seeing as how we have two sides of mutants, here. Does the government choose to embrace them or outlaw them? We'll see in time, in fact, the President is set to deliver a speech to the nation next week concerning his agenda for mutant-kind."

"This is our first step, Betsy," Forge said, smirking. "We're making the news. You know, shaking things up. Mutants as a whole aren't being seen as a threat anymore."

Betsy had a strange feeling Forge was jumping the gun. "There's gotta be more to it, Forge. Don't get too excited yet," Betsy said, walking away from him down towards Scott. "This isn't going to be a cakewalk. After today, we were given a look at just how difficult things will get for us in the future… I wouldn't be surprised if it got even more challenging for us."

Forge followed her. "I guess we'll just have to see…"


End file.
